


#274 - The Hawk's Nest

by WyckedStarr



Series: Recommendations for Optimum Recruit Survival [6]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Canon Temporary Character Death, CoulsonLives, I don't really go here any more to be honest, I don't really remember how to post to ao3, I've edited it, Multi, and I have not changed the characterisation, but this was written in 2012/2013, it's been 87 years, it's been So Long
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:02:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25220599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WyckedStarr/pseuds/WyckedStarr
Summary: SHIELD Recruit Survival Tip #274 - Please take caution if trying to enter Agent Barton's 'nest'. Results may vary.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton/Phil Coulson, Clint Barton/Phil Coulson/Natasha Romanov
Series: Recommendations for Optimum Recruit Survival [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/25951
Comments: 6
Kudos: 82





	#274 - The Hawk's Nest

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written in late 2012/early 2013, all the characterisation is reflective of that time. I've gotten back into writing and found my old fanfic notebook, so stuff that's worth reading is being typed up to post. Not beta-ed.

After they’d mopped up the last of the Chitari and consumed the Hulk’s body weight in shawarma, the newly formed Avengers went their separate ways for the time being. Tony and Bruce went to do science; Steve went to explore 21st century America; Thor took Loki back to Asgard; and Natasha, well she went wherever it was that she always went to recover after a tough mission. Sometimes she took him with her, but not today, today Clint really didn’t know where to go. The last thing he wanted to do was go back to SHIELD, not after the mess of the Helicarrier. Rationally, he knew that he’d been under mind control, but that wouldn’t stop the other SHIELD agents from blaming him. It wasn’t like he could provide much of an argument for why they shouldn’t. Hell, he was blaming himself as well.

Really, there was only one choice, one place that he would always go to when he needed to escape what passed for reality. He just wanted to escape. Escape from everything. From himself.

If asked, he wouldn’t be able to tell anyone how, but less than half an hour after he had made his decision, he found himself buried deep in his nest. He had built it in a half occupied office building, on the top floor, rented through a false identity he’d had help setting up, not that Clint wanted to think about exactly who it was that had helped him. The nest was for escaping, not dwelling, which was why it was in an office building, not an apartment building.

There was one window that had been treated so that it was impossible to see through it from the outside. Similarly, there was one door, with a small hallway between it and the doors of the lift, keeping the outside world separate from the nest. The door was almost completely blocked off, internal access only available if someone was already inside. The small access hatch by the window was also only accessible with help from the inside.

Clint didn’t need to use either of those methods though, not when the ventilation shafts provided a perfectly discrete entryway. Only one other person he knew could get through them to the nest and she was somewhere that wasn’t here. Maybe that would change eventually. Once he’d been sure, but now he wasn’t sure about anything. He couldn’t think about what might be in the future.

He had started the nest all the way back when he’d first been recruited for SHIELD. Back then it hadn’t been in this building, but when he had moved, he had brought all the original materials with him. Blankets and sheets and pillows from every place he had ever lived (or at least the ones he wanted to remember, or had found comfort in), clothes that he’d liberated from all the important people in his life, items that had caught his attention on his various missions (and sometimes on Nat’s). Now it was a mess of comfortable smells, sights and things. It was where he always went when he needed comfort and alone time, when something had happened that required processing to come to grips with, to stop the shaking deep inside.

With what he had done, under Loki’s command and what Natasha had told him, he was shaking worse than he had ever been before, and frankly he wasn’t sure if it would ever stop.

Maybe he should leave SHIELD, be an independent contractor or something. Then he wouldn’t have to be reminded every day of what he’d done. He had killed people he knew, people he had worked with, who had relied on him, trusted him. How could he keep working at SHIELD? Assuming he even was still working there.

Curled up in the warmth of his nest, Clint tucked the familiar solid weight of his bow against his side, taking what comfort he could from having the weapon close at hand. Soothed by the familiarity of his nest, he allowed himself to drift into sleep.

* * *

Woken abruptly by a tapping noise, Hawkeye looked up to see Ironman hovering at his window, one mental finger rap tap tapping at the glass. Freeing himself from his nest of tangled blankets, he made his way to the window and unlocked the hatch, allowing Stark to enter the building. Just.

“What do you need?” he asked, not allowing Ironman to move any further into the room than he already was.

“There is no technology up here? Seriously nothing. How the hell do you live like this Legolas?” Ironman’s electronic voice sneered. “SHIELD lodging really that bad?”

Clint didn’t want to think about SHIELD. “Say what you’re here to say and get out.” A hand dropped down to rest on the contents of his right pocket, where he kept his emergency small projectiles.

“Cap wants you to come back, says we need to debrief before he can go on his star-spangled banner reunion tour.” How sarcasm could make it through the voice modulation Clint didn’t know, but clearly Tony had made sure it could.

“Not going to happen. Now leave.”

“Nope,” he popped the p. “You’re coming with me, even if I have to drag you out of here. I can’t stand one more day of Rogers’ kicked puppy face.” The armour seemed to tense along with the man inside it. He was probably preparing to drag Clint out by force, but Clint had no intention of letting it come to that.

Tony flinched as something pinged against his armour, the noise surprisingly loud. Hawkeye had retreated deep into the piles of stuff, (random trash?) and was throwing something at him. Bloody Barton and his accuracy, they were all hitting the same spot. If he kept this up, he could scratch the paint. Not to mention the noise was supremely annoying.

“Sir, if Agent Barton continues, I estimate he will break the armours’ defences within ten minutes. It may be prudent to retrieve Agent Barton another time.”

“Seriously? That sounds like something that should not be happening, remind me to fix that, this is ridiculous, beaten by someone throwing stones?” With a shrug of mechanical shoulders, Tony turned around and dove through the hatch. “Steve will just have to keep pouting.”

Smirking, Barton watched Stark leave, another annoyance successfully chased off. He was really good at chasing people off. The smile faded as he sunk back into his pile of fabric, reaching into the nearby refrigerated box and pulling out a loaf of bread, forcing himself to take a bite. Sooner or later, someone else that he would have to chase off would turn up, and he would need his strength.

A soft pad woke Barton up this time. He knew who it was before he opened his eyes. Not many people could get in here without waking him. Particularly not any more…

Natasha was crouched over him, eyes bright with concern. She had brought food with her, angel that she was.

“You dealing?” she asked, voice soft. She didn’t need to say the rest for Clint to know what she was saying.

“Fine, Tasha.” He took the food she offered, stashing it away in the appropriate place.

No more words were said after that, Natasha instead choosing to curl up with him in his nest. He was glad she was there, ever after everything. She understood him, knew that the last thing he wanted to hear were words. In silence he could ignore the existence of the rest of the world. And the warmth she provided, tucked against his back was a constant source of comfort. Even if he still felt strangely cold, like someone (or something) was missing, an empty space on his other side.

Clint felt more than heard Tash leave two days after she arrived. After that, he didn’t bother measuring the time. It wasn’t like it meant anything. She’d come back with supplies as needed. The sky darkened and lightened and slowly, so slowly, the aching wound in his heart began to ease just a little. Not heal, never truly heal, but it no longer bled quite as profusely.

Maybe it was time to leave his nest; time to return to SHIELD and the Avengers, if they'd still have him. It would hurt, every time, walking past Phil’s empty office (or worse, seeing someone else in his office, Phil replaced), seeing the mistrustful look on familiar faces, but he would live through it.

He got to his feet, rubbing a hand across his eyes. Yawning, he collected the food from the refrigerator unit that would rot if left here and turned to the door. He’d take it back to the Avengers, SHIELD or the tower, wherever they were hanging out now, he’d seen Rogers and Thor eat, he knew one of them would be able to finish it off for him.

The figure standing in the doorway made him freeze in his tracks. His face was shadowed, but the way he stood was recognisable in its blandness, designed to blend in everywhere he went. Clint would never be able to overlook him.

Stepping forward, Phil held out a hand, his face a mess of emotion: sorrow, regret, apology and more than anything else, love. Clint wanted nothing more than to run into his arms, but he couldn’t. What if it was a trick; Loki or the cube messing with him.

He had to be sure it was really him. And Clint’s Phil would know that.

“We met on a Thursday.” A lie, but the correct one.

“I approached you to recruit you for SHIELD.” Correct again.

“Not that you had such a snappy name back then,” Clint interrupted, unable to help himself.

“You looked at me with one eyebrow raised and asked me why you should consider working for an agency whose name was more incomprehensible than most politicians’ double talk.

“I told you that we would let you use your bow for more than just trick shots and you laughed at me. I said that he could give you a family and you looked at me as if you have never heard the word before. But for some reason you agreed to give SHIELD a chance.

“In your first year, you caused the most trouble of any recruit ever in the history of SHIELD. I’m pretty sure you still hold that record.” Coulson’s eyes had a distinctly wet sheen to him.

“You found Natasha and convinced her to join us, to live. You dragged her home the way a puppy drags in a kitten, ignoring the claws swiping at you and stared at me with those puppy dog eyes until I agreed to let her stay. You found the heart I had buried away long ago and made the three of us a family.”

Clint sniffed, swiping at the tears making their way down his checks. “How?”

“Loki has crap aim and SHIELD has good medics.” He stepped forward and grinned brightly. “Besides, Natasha would kill me if I actually died.”

“Damn right I would,” Natasha muttered from her shadowy corner of the nest.

Clint grinned and threw himself at Phil, arms wrapping tightly around him. Laughing and crying at the same time, Clint felt like he could finally breathe again. Noticing Phil’s slight grimace, he eased his grip and stared at Phil, searching for any sign to prove it was really (really!) him, not a life model decoy or some other hyper realistic SHIELD ploy. Phil met his eyes, gaze fierce. Clint couldn’t help but feel like he was searching his eyes for any hint of blue tesseract energy and had to resist the urge to drop his gaze in shame.

Satisfied with whatever he had found (or hadn’t found) in Clint’s eyes, Phil wrapped his arms around him, burying his face into Clint’s messy hair and breathing deep. Clint knew he had to smell disgusting, but Phil didn’t seem to care.

Careful of Phil’s clearly not fully healed wound, Clint pulled him down into the soft mess of his nest, reaching out with grabby hands, signalling for Natasha to join them. She slid into the mess without disturbing either of the men, her back to them to keep a look out. She’d let her boys reunite and keep them safe.

Some time later, a faint noise caught her attention, and she carefully extracted herself to pad to the nearest access point. Tony may not have realised, since it was a fully closed system, but the nest had quite a few defences, including an extensive camera system.

“Agents Barton and Coulson?” The voice of some poor recruit echoed down the hallway to the secured door. Natasha could only imagine they’d somehow pissed off someone important to be given this particular duty.

She glanced over to meet Clint’s eyes, who gave her a nod and a toothy grin. She placed her hand against a fingerprint plate, barely visible unless you know where to look, activating the automatic defence system. The well-maintained mechanism whirred into action and the next sound was the incredibly surprised squeak of the unfortunate SHIELD recruit. Clint’s grin widened as Phil laughed hopelessly, shaking his head. Natasha couldn’t stop herself from smiling, and went to re-join them, making a mental note to remind Clint it was time to bring in some fresh nesting materials.

* * *

Later, one very bruised and battered SHIELD recruit stood in Fury’s office, having finally managed to make his way out of the labyrinth of traps surrounding Agent Barton’s ‘nest’. He ran his hands through slightly fried hair, nervous about how the news he had to deliver would be taken, Director Fury not being known for his tolerance for failure.

“Well?” Fury asked, without looking up from his computer.

“Um…”

Fury looked up, taking in the state of the recruit, from the tips of his crispy hair to his muddy shoes.

“Well, Sir, Agent Barton had some kind of defence system.” He was proud of how his voice was only slightly shaking.

Fury grinned, baring his teeth and sending terror shivering down the unfortunate recruit’s spine. “Excellent. Dismissed.”

Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth (or the eye), the grateful recruit quickly left Director Fury’s office, glad beyond measure that Fury had not disembowelled him. And additionally, now he had a hell of a story to tell his fellow recruits. First, he had to hit the showers and then, it was time to start spinning the story of the hawk’s nest and his daring escape.

_Fin_

**Author's Note:**

> To be honest, I'm not really a part of the MCU fandom anymore, but I found that I enjoyed this throwback to an earlier time. I'll be posting the rest of the ones that were finished once they're typed and given a bit of editing.


End file.
